Caught in the Storm
by krazyhippo66
Summary: SEE PROFILE FOR DETAILS - Actress Maura Isles had never been one for people. What happens when a snap decision lands her smack in the middle of a social, well-liked homicide detective's life? R&R - worth continuing?


Maura kept her head down as she walked, not even trusting the darkness of night to conceal her from the public eye. Yes, it was only a few blocks. Yes, she was walking in order to keep her driver in an inconspicuous location. But still.

Her press hadn't been that fantastic as of late, and paparazzi seemed extra interested, which had her on high alert. She'd even considered wearing her sunglasses in lieu of being able to see, just for the extra protection. But alas, coming on set with many facial bruises wouldn't make her very popular.

She turned the corner and shivered as the wind picking up. Someone exited an apartment complex not ten feet in front of her, and she tensed up, fearing the onslaught of excitement, but a gust of wind blew her hair right into her face before the person looked up. She scurried past them, thankful for the wonderful fate, but still annoyed as she angrily swiped at her locks; she missed wearing her hair up.

The only other person on the street was at the end of the block, giving Maura plenty of time to prepare, but as she neared and got a better look, her heart went out to this woman.

The brunette was slouched on the stoop, her legs open in a wide enough stance to rest her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands. Her thick mane of curls blocked her face, and if it was not for the small amount of forearm visible, Maura would've surely missed the woman completely in the shadows.

The woman's suit was dirty with dust or chalk or…something. And a lot of that something. The pant leg in Maura's full view was ripped, and as she drew nearer, she could've sworn she saw a fair amount of blood dried on the sliver of visible skin.

Unbeknownst to her mind, her feet slowed until she realized she was no longer moving. She was just standing, staring at the woman, entirely unsure what to do.

From what she could see, the woman's was trembling, and she instantly felt around in her purse.

"Here," she said quietly, extending all the cash she had on her.

The woman sniffled and looked up, just until her eyes met the money. She chuckled humorlessly before looking down at the ground. At least she hadn't put her head back in her hands.

"I'm not homeless," she mumbled. "But it's a fair assumption."

Maura didn't back down, taking a step closer and keeping the money extended.

"I don't care."

Something in her voice must've intrigued the woman because she looked past the bills and up to her face. For a split second, gratitude filled her beautiful, _beautiful_ brown eyes, but concern, then shame replaced the warm emotion.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Shit. Maura fucking Isles," she laughed bitterly. "Don't stick around for me."

She half stood up, arm extended, then half backed off when Maura cringed slightly. Maura realized too late that the woman was reaching for her elbow, to guide her away and further down the sidewalk in the direction she had originally been heading. She mentally kicked herself for not catching the social cue, but did not move. She just looked back at the conflicted brunette.

"C'mon, please? Just get outta here before someone sees you. I'm not worth any shit you'd get. And I certainly don't wanna be the reason Maura Isles turns up dead in an alley for staying out too late."

Maura squared her shoulders, then moved to the woman's left and sat herself down on the step. For a moment, the brunette stayed standing, looking down at Maura in shock, but when Maura looked back expectantly, she shrugged weakly, sinking down next to the celebrity.

She swiped her hair behind her ear, giving Maura the first real look at her. Her face was smudged with dirt, and the dirt was diluted in vertical streaks, where her tears had fallen.

"You're out here too," Maura pointed out. "You're just as likely to get attacked as me."

This got a genuine smirk out of the woman, who brushed the front panel of her jacket aside to reveal her firearm and badge before letting the material hang loosely by her side once again.

"Detective Jane Rizzoli," she muttered, leaning her elbows on her knees once again, staring at an imaginary spot on the ground in front of her.

"I feel compelled to ask you what the matter is," Maura stated quietly. "You don't seem alright."

Beside her, Jane didn't move. She kept her breaths quiet, her eyes staying locked on the ground.

"Yeah. Well…I guess that's better than being asked if I'm alright."

"Tell me," Maura prompted, scooting slightly closer, trying her best to mimic Jane's sitting position, but it was proving difficult in her skirt. "I'll listen."

"I-it's nothing. Jesus, I…I mean, Maura…Maura _Isles…_It's not important."

"You don't seem like one to cry," Maura pressed, nudging the woman beside her with her shoulder. "So I believe it would take something more than nothing, and something very important to make you cry, even for a little."

"I wasn't crying," Jane protested half-heartedly.

Maura reached out and took hold of Jane's chin, forcing her to look over. She studied the puffiness of Jane's cheeks more closely, once again taking in the tear streaks etched in the layer of dirt. Her other hand lifted carefully, brushing the slightly damp skin before finally looking up into Jane's eyes.

She tried her hardest to relay her sincere concern, and her message seemed received as Jane's eyes softened to a level of vulnerability Maura had never been shown. Jane's eyes began to water again, and she freed herself from Maura's grip by turning away, just in time for the tears to fall again.

"It's nothing. It's…"

Maura waited, her gaze never leaving Jane's face.

"I…I had to shoot him," Jane said quietly.

Never in her life had Maura heard those words in real life. Even in movies or scripts or books, the words hurt her, even with just the slightest pang in her chest. Hearing them rumble out in Jane's raspy voice made her feel like her heart wasn't even there.

"We'd been following this trail for two days. We'd been following bodies. More and more and more bodies, and it was getting to us. But then…then we got him. We got ahead and we cornered him. But…but he had a gun. He was desperate not to go to prison and so he just…He was gonna shoot my partner, y'know?" she asked, her voice cracking. "And so I shot him…It…I'd never…not before that…"

She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, turning to look Maura head on.

"A-and I can't help but…but think about him. He had a kid. A kid and a wife…he had people he could've…he could've loved the rest of his life. But I…I just took it away," she laughed darkly again. "And I shouldn't care! The bastard killed eight girls. Eight innocent girls. But…but I can't _help_ but think…Could I've…I don't even know! Could I've hit his shoulder or his hand or…"

She let out a weary sigh, and Maura caught the slightest hint of whiskey laced in her breath.

"I'm a terrible person. I'm a terrible cop and a terrible daughter and a terrible partner—"

"Come on," Maura coaxed, hoisting Jane to her feet. "You're coming with me."

"I'm fine," Jane grumbled, gently ripping her arm from Maura's grip.

Maura didn't know the boundaries society set, but she knew she didn't trust this woman alone with herself. Even if she was only slightly buzzed. Even if she was only slightly shaken. She knew she needed to help.

"You're coming with me," she repeated, softly retaking Jane's arm, careful to be unforceful.

"Maura Isles!" someone called out, just before a blinding flash filled the night. "Over here, Maura."

Instantly, Jane stepped in front of the honey-blonde, her arms extended. She squinted as more flashes went off, but her posture blocking Maura didn't waver. Maura ducked her head behind the woman, resting it in the space between her shoulder blades.

"Where we going?" Jane asked as the chatter of reporters broke out.

Maura put her hand around Jane's waist and guided her backward, the two stumbling awkwardly for a block until they fell around the corner and into the arms of Maura's body guard.

"She's okay," Maura said firmly as he steadied them. "Just get me home. Please."

The man wordlessly pushed them to the car, standing firmly on the sidewalk as the paparazzi rounded the corner as well.

"He gonna be okay?" Jane mumbled, peering out the tinted window as they drove off.

"Yes. Peter can handle himself," Maura assured, relaxing into the leather seat. "Besides. They'll lose interest now that I'm gone."

Jane chuckled and rolled her eyes, and Maura was simply glad she'd succeeded in making that smile happen.

She poured Jane a glass of water and the detective took it willingly, sipping it and rubbing her eye.

"Jesus, I'm a mess," she muttered. "I'm sorry. You really don't need to do this. Just take me home—"

"Let me help you."

Maura heard the desperation in her own voice and tried not to wince, but she was sure she cringed slightly. Jane inspected her in silence for a long time before her posture relaxed once more.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Jane admitted in defeat.

The rest of the car ride, Maura couldn't take her eyes off the brunette. The way she chewed her lip nervously as she stared out the window. The way her eyes were still glossy, each streetlight they passed whizzing by in a streak across her iris and pupil. The way she acknowledged her fame without focusing on it.

She could go on forever.

Jane fascinated her.

They pulled up to her house and Jane's eyes widened.

"This isn't a house! It's…it's…" she trailed off.

Maura half-smirked. She put her hand on Jane's upper arm to guide her out of the car. The heat she felt radiating back was delicious. Addictive. She didn't ever want to _stop_ touching Jane. She did, though, clasping her hands tightly in front of her as they walked to her front door and inside, past the guard on duty.

"Bathroom's upstairs. If you want to…shower."

Jane chuckled.

"She's polite too!" she joked. "You know you're allowed to tell me not to dirty up your house. I won't mind."

"It's not that!" Maura exclaimed. "I just…I know I don't like walking around all dirty after a long day or a long…week."

Jane laughed again.

"I was kidding."

"Oh. Well…I…Alright."

Jane smirked.

"Upstairs?"

"Upstairs," Maura confirmed. "I'll see if I have any spare clothes for you."

She watched Jane trudge up the stairs, hands shoved in her pockets, and she couldn't help but smile. She'd never had anyone she hadn't known for more than ten years in this house.

Heading for her bedroom upstairs, she searched for the single pair of sweatpants she had, for her desperate times of stress and no sleep. When she didn't have to go out in public.

The best she could find for a top was an undershirt, and, after grabbing socks and underwear, she sat on the edge of her bed and waited for the water to turn off.

She counted to sixty, then stood and went for the bathroom door. She paused, her hand on the knob, counting once again to twenty, then swung it open. Jane yelped and covered herself with the towel in time, but she was clearly distressed.

"_Damn_, woman! The _only_ times I'm uncomfortable is when I'm either crying or naked. Are you just…_trying_ to see me at my worst?"

Maura frowned, unashamedly taking in Jane's half-clothed appearance.

"I doubt nudity would be your worst state of dress. Your physique is exquisite—"

"Stop!" Jane laughed. "God. You sound like an encyclopedia that seduces people."

"Am I seducing you?"

"Wha-…No! I just…That's what it _sounded like_!" she corrected hastily. "Would you just gimme the clothes?!"

Maura smiled, happy to see her social awkwardness didn't seem to be affecting the detective too much. She extended the pile of clothes and Jane took them, staring at them for a moment before carefully lifting the lacy thong up with her index finger and hanging it in front of her face. Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes flicking between the underwear and Maura.

"What?" Maura asked.

"I'm not wearing this."

"I've never worn it."

"I'm not wearing this."

"Fine," Maura said curtly, bending over to scoop up Jane's discarded clothes.

"Just fine? No argument?" Jane asked warily.

Maura gave her a tight smile.

"Who am I to care if you 'go commando' or not?"

She turned and left, leaving Jane stunned for a moment before she realized the honey-blonde had taken her old underwear out with her.

"Shit," she breathed, her nose wrinkling up as she looked once again to the thong.

Maura looked up at the sound of her door creaking open, smiling at the brunette, who hung in the doorway. She tried her best not to glance down at the turquoise strap peeking out above the low-riding sweats.

"Is there somewhere I should…stay?" Jane asked self-consciously, biting her lip.

Maura casually patted the bed beside her, looking back down at her book.

"I don't have any other bedrooms, and in your current condition, I don't recommend you sleep on a couch."

"You…you don't have _any _other bedrooms?" Jane asked in shock, taking another careful step into the room.

"No," Maura said, her eyes flicking up to Jane for a split second before continuing reading. "Why would anyone visit?"

Jane furrowed her brow in confusion, but gently shut the door behind her.

"Because…your friends want to visit you?" she tried.

"I don't have any friends."

"You…?" but Jane didn't finish the question.

She didn't know how. Instead, she slipped carefully into the king-sized bed, noticing the large glass of water on the nightstand beside her.

"Drink," Maura order gently. "You've consumed enough alcohol that it's almost certain you'll have a hangover tomorrow. And based on your lack of sleep and general stress levels, I'd say it'll be a lot worse if you don't drink—"

"You're worse than my mother," Jane mumbled over the edge of the glass just before taking a long gulp of water.

"I'm just trying to help," Maura said quietly. "Alcohol replaces water in the body and inhibits vasopressin, which is necessary for the kidneys to reabsorb the water in waste products. Combating dehydration now will lessen the severity of your hangover, although there's not much I can do for your acetaldehyde build-up."

Jane smiled and let the glass fall away from her face.

"You don't sound like an actress."

"I don't?"

"No. You sound smart. And unlike your roles."

Maura smiled to herself.

"That's quite the compliment, Jane. Being able to act out characters unlike yourself is the mark of a good actress."

Jane almost blushed. No. She definitely blushed.

"Thanks for helping," she said quietly.

Maura felt her heart jump at the sentiment. She wasn't sure where the confident, joking woman went who had been standing in her foyer, but she had to admit she liked this shy one almost as much.

"What kind of person would I be if I didn't?" she asked honestly, looking over at Jane, who was gazing back.

The brunette looked intensely at her for a pregnant pause, before averting her gaze to her lap.

"Anyone else."

Maura didn't know how to answer. She knew what she _should_ say, but a coherent way to comfort wasn't forming in her brain.

"You should try and sleep," she said instead. "The period after drinking is the opposite of the crash associated with stimulant drugs. You won't sleep very well, but hopefully time will counteract the lack of depth with which you will probably sleep."

Jane grumbled something incoherent along the lines of 'that's comforting,' and it made Maura blush from her stupidity.

Why couldn't she carry out a complete conversation without making a fool of herself?

She was right, though. Jane thrashed in and out of sleep all night. At one point, Maura couldn't help but reach over and rub gentle circles on the back that was presented so tauntingly to her. The motions seemed to keep Jane still and very much asleep for a while, but she had to stop once her arm tired of the action.

After that, though, she herself fell asleep, and didn't feel any more of Jane's thrashing until she woke in the morning to find Jane not there. And to find a warm spot rather close to her own side of the bed.

She got up and went to the kitchen, expecting Jane to be gone or leaving, but the brunette was sitting at the kitchen counter, arms crossed on the flat surface and her chin resting on her forearm. She was staring at a bottle of aspirin, a large glass of water beside her, sunglasses covering her eyes.

"What're you doing?" Maura asked, clearing her throat to try and rid it of the morning rasp.

"Trying to will myself to only take two," Jane mumbled, lifting the sunglasses to squint at Maura. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than you."

Jane scowled, letting the glasses fall over her eyes once more.

"Bitch."

Maura laughed.

"It's true. Someone's feeling the after-effects of her pity drinking."

"I wasn't pity drinking! Not…really! It was more of a…sorrows-drowning party, if I _had_ to categorize it."

Maura nodded in appeasement, opening her fridge door and pulling out things one at a time.

"What're _you_ doing?" Jane asked. "Dontcha got a cook or something for that?"

"I did," Maura admitted. "But it got to the point where I was living once again like a child. Just because money can buy you something doesn't mean you need it."

"Do you clean the house?"

"When I can," Maura said. "When I'm away or I have a script to memorize, I'll be the first to admit I let the place go."

"Is this one of those times?" Jane quipped, her eyes scanning the pristine looking room.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Maura mumbled. "I'm sorry if it's not as presentable—"

"I could eat off the floors," Jane exclaimed. "Don't tell me this is messy."

"Okay," Maura said.

They stayed in silence, listening to the eggs searing in the pan.

Both jumped at the sound of hard pounding on Maura's front door.

"JANE? JANE ARE YOU IN THERE?"

Jane winced.

"IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE, MISSY?"

The detective clenched her fists and let her head fall to the granite counter.

"Tell me that's in my head."

"Tell you _what _is?"

"The Italian woman pounding on your door."

Maura paused, her head tilted as she listened, staring off into space.

"No. There's _definitely _an angry Italian woman pounding on my door," she said surely.

Jane groaned.

"No…No, no, no, no, no…"

She got up and ran down the hall, flinging the door open. Her mother came into view, struggling against Peter to reach Jane.

"MA!" Jane whined. "What in the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Don't you swear at me, Janie!" Angela shot back, "I have been worried sick."

Her mother shoved the bodyguard slightly until he let off, Peter still keeping himself between Angela and the door.

"I'm a grown-ass woman, Ma!" Jane protested. "I can do whatever the hell I want. What're you even doing here? How did you _find _me?!"

"Well, when you didn't call last night, I was worried. I went to your apartment, but you never came home. I thought you were _dead_ in a _ditch_ somewhere, so I tracked your phone here—"

"You track my _phone_?!" Jane shouted.

"I _worry_, Jane! You never came home, so I just—"

"Tracked me like a _dog_?!"

"No!"

"Take the damn phone! And next time, mind your damn _business_!"

Jane threw it at her mother, slamming the front door in a huff.

"Jane!" Angela yelled. "Jane Clemintine Rizzoli, you get back out here—"

"Ma'am," Peter said firmly, extending his arm and gently pushing Angela backward. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Angela glared at him, but when he did not back down, she turned and stormed off, back to her car.

Jane groaned, leaning against the door and sliding down to the floor. She put her head in her hand, trying to quiet the throbbing that came from all the noise. Maura came in from the kitchen, a small smile on her face.

"You handled that well."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No," Maura frowned.

"Yeah, well, I'll have to deal with the aftermath later. As in at work. Where I can't get out of it."

"Then you're very brave," Maura tried not to chuckle.

"Was _that_ sarcasm?" Jane asked, unable to suppress her grin.

"No," Maura shook her head, taking a sip of her coffee. "I was just picturing her yelling at you in front of all your peers. It was amusing."

Jane let her mouth drop open in faux-offence.

"Maura Isles, are you laughing at my pain?"

Maura laughed lightly.

"I do believe I am, yes."

"Then I'd say it's safe to say we're officially friends. Because y'know, only friends laugh at each other's pain. Unless you're just a bitchy actress. But you're not a bitchy actress, right?"

Maura's eyebrows rose at the implication, and she gave a dismissive 'hmph' before turning and heading back to the kitchen. "I'm not a bitchy actress, Detective Jane Rizzoli. Nor are you a bitchy female officer of the law. Right?"

Jane laughed whole-heartedly at Maura's mimicking tone.

"Right. That would just be wrong."

Maura shoved a plate of eggs toward Jane, along with a large glass of orange juice.

"Eat," she said. "Those eggs will give you the cysteine to break down all the toxins your alcohol consumption left behind."

"And the juice?" Jane teased, cutting off a chunk of the omelet.

"To replace lost electrolytes. Also, many studies show fructose increase the rate at which your body works to break down toxins, as well as the energy it provides should be enough to at least get you through the morning."

Jane smirked. She liked listening to Maura ramble. It was cute.

"How do you know so much? Not to be rude or anything. It's not like actresses are dumb. But I don't usually peg 'em for geniuses."

"I've never taken an IQ test," Maura said.

"Alright…?"

"I cannot confirm whether or not I am a genius, as I have never taken an IQ test."

Jane chuckled.

"You're a genius," she confirmed. "Not the point."

Maura looked at her warily for a moment before deflating slightly. She leaned down on the counter with her elbows, getting down onto Jane's level.

"Quite a while ago, I wanted to be a doctor."

Jane frowned, tilting her head slightly.

"You can't do that now?"

Maura sighed.

"No, Jane. Even if I _were_ to go back to school, do you know how many people would take me seriously?"

"Sounds to me like you'd pass every class."

At this, Maura stood. She crossed her arms and began to pace, her thumb eventually finding its way up to her mouth, and she chewed absentmindedly at the nail.

"That's not it. Even if I got…Even if I got a perfect in every course, I still wouldn't be taken seriously. Not ever. I'd be the actress that wanted to learn medicine. I could never start a practice because _no one_ would want an _actress_ to operate on them. I'll never…I'll never be anything more to them than entertainment. A pretty face. A nice body—"

"That's where I'm gonna stop you," Jane said firmly, standing and catching Maura's hands in her own, holding them tightly between their bodies. "I guess I can't say you'll ever be a doctor, but Maura, I know…I _know_ you're more than that. And I've known you for less than twelve hours. Other people could see it too."

Maura gave her a sad smile.

"Not likely," she said quietly. "And that's simply from twenty-five years of experience, not the general public."

Jane's eyes pleaded with her, peering deep into the hazel, but Maura just shook her head, trying to rid herself of the tears she felt building.

"Can I see you again?" Jane asked, cursing herself at how lame she sounded.

But Maura nodded, slowly at first, but eventually more sure.

"I'd like that a lot."

Relief flooded Jane's face, and she gave the smallest smile before masking it away.

She cleared her throat.

"Great. But I, uhh...I have to go...now. I'm late for work."

"Okay," Maura tried to hide her disappointment.

Jane turned back around to try and shovel the remaining portions of her breakfast into her mouth at once.

"Oh! Wait! Your clothes!" Maura exclaimed.

"Yeah. I know," Jane said as she chewed, "I'll get 'em later."

"B-but that's not work appropriate!"

Jane chuckled, wiping her mouth with her wrist.

"Don't combust. I've got a change of clothes there."

Maura nodded, watching the detective for a few moments before coming to some internal agreement, because with a nod to nothing in particular, she turned and disappeared. Jane finished her breakfast with a final large bite, moving the dishes to the sink and heading for the front door. Maura was already standing there, Jane's boots in one hand, a piece of paper in the other.

"My driver can take you back to the police department. And here's my number."

"Thanks," Jane mumbled, her nerves suddenly back.

She blushed as she took the paper, clumsily dropping her boots to the floor to try and pull them on with one hand..

"Oh. And I recommend staying away from coffee, no matter how much you might want it. Caffeine inhibits the re-hydration process."

"Did you just stereotype me?" Jane asked incredulously, looking up from yanking on her boot, her eyebrows raised. "With the whole...I'm a cop thing?"

"Of course not! Behind the slightly..._earthy_ scent of your jacket, it smelled quite strongly of coffee and lavender."

"So...you were smelling my jacket?"

"No!" Maura protested, a blush rising up her neck. "It was just rather pungent."

Jane smirked at the flustered actress.

"I will stay away from coffee," she assured, straightening up.

They looked at each other in silence, both trying to decide whether or not to prolong the conversation.

"Well...have a good day at work," Maura tried, reaching out hesitantly to rest her hand on Jane's arm.

Jane's smile faltered, and she feared she had done something wrong, but then Jane put her own hand over Maura's, squeezing gently before practically running out the door.

"I'll see ya!" she called over her shoulder, unable to muster the courage to look back.

Glancing down at the paper, she saw a phone number, Maura's name scribbled next to it. She almost laughed. Maura had written it like she'd forget who gave her the number. How could she forget? Maura Isles. She read the name over and over. _Maura Isles. _She had slept with Maura Isles. Well…close enough.

* * *

**A/N: Well this is it, ladies and gentlemen. This is the time of year when I crank out a lot of my story ideas, because for some strange reason, I stress write. While everyone else is freaking out as they study for finals, I spend my time equally split between studying and cranking out stories I didn't even know I had in my head. Starting with this one. So. If you've got requests, send me a PM. This'll be the time when I can actually accomplish them. And as always, let me know if this one is a story worth pursuing. Happy Monday, and I hope that everyone has a wonderful week.**

**Silence will fall.**


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